


The Way We Tick

by Koichiko



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A tiny bit of angst if you squint really hard, Aftercare, Again - No actual sex!, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Derek, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Bottom!Stiles, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom!Derek, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Just two guys talking about sex, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, M/M, Mention of unnegotiated kink, Mistakes, Only talking though, Pain, Sex Talk, Sex Toys, Stiles explains BDSM, Stupid Boys, Top!Derek, kink discussion, no explicit sex, sub!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koichiko/pseuds/Koichiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles need to have a serious discussion about the sex they have. It's more than a little necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way We Tick

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fucked Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/613500) by [KeriArentikai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/pseuds/KeriArentikai). 



> Hi :)  
> This took two days two write and about a month to edit because I'm a lazy bum and I was stuck studying for exams (because yeah, that always happen when I finally get down to writing something. Exams show up. Our of nowhere, I swear!).  
> I decided to write a kink negotiation fic after reading the fanfic "Fucked Up" by KeriArentikai for a bunch of different reasons, one of which is the simple fact that there aren't many fanfics of this particular subject around.
> 
> !!! Warning!!!  
> This fanfiction contains no actual BDSM sex, but it deals very graphically with BDSM practices and what those could entail.  
> There is also mentioning of a past non-con situation!  
> If you are not comfortable with it, please read with discretion or don't read at all.

They were sitting at the table in Derek’s house, Stiles staring at his knees, Derek turning the coffee cup in his hands slowly, both of them silent.

The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words and anxiety, and the warm breeze coming through the open window, heavy with the smell of fall, did nothing to relieve them.

Stiles knew they had to talk. Had to finally get it all out in the open.

His relationship with Derek had never been complicated. As terrible as the burden of Derek’s past was on him, it had never made much of an impact on the way he loved Stiles, because even though he had never actually said it out loud, he **did** love Stiles.

Stiles was as sure of that as he was of the simple, yet undeniable fact that he was in love with Derek too.

Which was exactly why they had to have this conversation: they had to acknowledge what made them tick.

The silence was increasingly uncomfortable and so Stiles finally spoke. “We need to talk about this, Derek,” he said, lifting his eyes and looking at his boyfriend with determination.

Derek’s shoulders tensed up. He was pale and the harsh way his eyebrows were drawn together looked like its scowl was permanently edged into his face.

“Okay,” His voice was low and colored in the kind of anger that came from regret and fear of having destroyed something important. Stiles knew that it wasn’t directed at him.

“First things first,” Stiles straightened himself out, leaning his arms on the table and scooting forward. “I like it, okay?”

Finally, Derek looked up at him. Stiles could see that he was about to shake his head, so he quickly spoke up again, not letting Derek get a word in before he hadn't made exactly clear what he meant.

“Derek, no. I really **do** like it. Having sex with you, I always liked it. Everything you have done so far, everything we’ve done so far, I liked those things. You need to understand that.”

Derek didn’t protest but his face was stony and unbelieving. He looked livid and devastated at the same time, anger and guilt fighting in his eyes, brows furrowed and lips in a thin tense line.

“Look,” Stiles started up again, sliding one hand through his hair in quiet exasperation. “I need you to believe me, to trust that I wouldn’t lie to you about this, okay? Listen to my heart if you have to,” he looked into Derek’s eyes to show him how serious he was. He needed Derek to believe him first, before they could start really talking about this, “I like it. All of it. Last week was the first time I didn’t like something we did and I made that clear, didn’t I? I made you stop.”

Derek flinched visibly at that and Stiles couldn’t help but sigh. Okay, maybe not the best strategy to start with bringing up the thing that had Derek so on edge.

Deciding to approach the issue differently, Stiles clarified, “I’m not breaking up with you.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say because Derek’s head snapped up, eyes big and Stiles knew he had hit the nail on its head. The sudden fierce flare of affection didn’t surprise him in the least.

Stiles watched Derek’s face as emotions washed over it, fascinated by the way Derek’s beauty wasn’t diminished by the fear he only allowed Stiles to see so obviously displayed on his face.

“You should!” Derek finally snapped, hands gripping tightly onto the cup. “You shouldn’t want to be with me, Stiles. This is … it wasn’t right! I hurt you!”

Hissing a silent “Fuck”, he let go of the cup, combing both his hands through his hair in a furious, desperate movement.

There was a second of silence in which Stiles watched over Derek’s hunched figure over the table.

Finally, he shook his head. “Bullshit. I’m the one who decides if or when I should leave you. And this is definitely not it.”

Stiles was trying to sound secure and cocky, but even he noticed the way his voice was shaking. It was no use to hide that he was nervous. He had been anxious about having this talk for an entire week already, but now that it seemed like Derek wasn’t ready to believe him he was starting to feel how the stress of needing to safe this, needing Derek to trust him in this was getting to him.

Guilt was not something Derek handled very well, never had, for obvious reasons. It was with a sinking feeling in his gut that Stiles remembered Derek’s terrified look when Stiles had pushed him off, off of him and the bed, and the lump in his throat felt like it was chocking him. Breathing heavily, he almost didn’t hear when Derek started talking again.

“We can’t … Stiles, you. I can’t do it. I can’t let you go, I can’t. You have to …”

Derek glared up at him, stricken, eyes angry and sad and almost too much for Stiles to bear. It was like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out.

“I am **not** breaking up with you,” Stiles repeated emphatically, with a growing panic that was slowly suffocating him. He licked his lips. “Do you understand that, Derek? I will **not** break up with you! I love having sex with you, I love it when you are rough and fast and I love the pain, you know I do, and I know you like it too, but that’s why we need to talk about it, Derek, _please_!”

They were staring at each other, Stiles with blown eyes and a desperation so tangible he knew Derek would be able to smell it. Both ignored the blush creeping onto Stiles’ cheeks because for the moment it was unimportant. Derek was looking right back at him, still with that pain from having hurt him in his eyes. But after a few moments he took a deep breath, eyes fluttering close.

He nodded slowly, gnawing on his bottom lip. Derek voice sounded steady but small when he proclaimed, “I don’t want us to break up, Stiles.”

Relieved, Stiles nodded.

 “Good. Me neither. But, Derek …”, Stiles felt brave enough to brace the subject now, seeing how Derek’s anger was seeping out of him, “what happened last week can never happen again.”

Stiles didn’t have to say it, didn’t have to use the words to know that they had made a huge mistake. That they both knew it and that they were both at fault for not realizing earlier what a risky game they were playing. He held his breathe, waiting for Derek’s eyes to flash in the kind of self-loathing it hurt Stiles so much to see, but his boyfriend only nodded, setting the empty cup aside. He was looking directly at Stiles, eyebrows still drawn together tightly and jaw set. It was a good sign, though, to see the anger gone from those beautiful eyes and Stiles sighed in relief.

“I trust you, Stiles. That’s not it, I do … it’s just-,“ Derek cut himself off, eyes still attached to Stiles.

“You didn’t know, Derek. It’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you. I didn’t know either.”

His voice was calm and he half-smiled at Derek, trying to put some kind of positive expression back on Derek’s face. He failed, but that didn’t discourage him. They’d get there.

“Remember what I told you on the phone yesterday? That other people do the same things we do? In a safe way?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I looked it up online and there is lots of stuff on it! I mean, I knew that, but … I always just assumed that we were different somehow,” he scratched his head apologetically, eyes downcast, “and I never thought to look into it more. Anyway, I think …,” he gulped, this was going to be so awkward, “we need to talk about it. Like, what we like. And what we don’t like. Like --- you know?”

When he looked at Derek from under his lashes, he was watching him with an arched eyebrow and Stiles couldn’t help bit snicker. “I know, okay? Don’t look at me like that, it’s super weird!”

“Stiles, is that really all it takes?” The older man sounded unsure, frowning at him, “Just talking about what we like? What about all the things we did, in that past? Can you really just … forgive me? The things I did to you-“

Stiles lifted his hands to make Derek stop, looking at him seriously, but with a reassuring tilt to his lips. “I’m not … there’s not even anything to blame you for, Derek. There is nothing **to** forgive. Yes, we were stupid and you did something I didn’t like, but I stopped it and we both didn’t know any better. Now we do. I’m not saying that it was all peachy and perfect and that there aren’t issues and grey-zones that we have to clear up once and for all, but … you never hurt me, Derek. Never in a way that would change the way I feel about you.”

Derek was looking at him with such an honest and open relief when Stiles looked up at him again, that he couldn’t help but stare. He didn’t connect the dots – that apparently part of the reason why Derek had been so angry at himself was the fact that he had been afraid of somehow changing Stiles’ feelings by how he treated him during sex – until much later and so, for the moment, he just continued staring at his gorgeous boyfriend a little breathlessly.

After a few moments, Derek cleared his throat and uttered the next words with hunched shoulders.  

“I feel like I’m forcing you,” he revealed with a tight voice, “and not like you mean, not in a way you’d like. Just …” He seemed to be at a loss of words. Stiles waited in silence until he found a way to express what he meant, letting his eyes wander over Derek’s features.

“I need to know that it’s really okay-,” when Stiles opened his mouth, he interfered quickly, “when we have sex. Not now. I trust you, Stiles. I know you like when I force you. I know you like,” he coughed, “I know you like it when I hurt you, when I dominate you. And I won’t insult you by lying and saying that I don’t like it too. But …”

“You need to be absolutely sure that I’m up for it before we start?” Stiles asked when, after a few moments, Derek still hadn’t found the right thing to say.

Derek looked at him, long and thankful. Then he nodded.

 “We should, like, agree on a sign,” Stiles agreed, using his hands again to be as descriptive as possible, and Derek’s slightly confused look didn’t escape him. He couldn’t help but grin because a confused Derek was still one of the strangest sights on earth.

“Okay, so, let’s say we are about to have sex and I want to let you know that it’s okay to be … rough”, Stiles had read the word “scene” a lot in connection to the kind of sex they had and liked, but the word sounded intimidating and kind of distant to Stiles and that was not what he wanted with Derek, “--- and I don’t want to, like, say it out loud because ... well, let’s be honest, that would be a total killjoy,” he said with an air of tragedy, as if having a lengthy talk before sex was the worst thing he could ever imagine happening to him, “--- but if we have a sign than I can let you know without having to talk about it and we can get right on it. See, it’s only practical!” The grin on his face was bright and infectious.

“What kind of sign?” Derek asked cautiously.

“It can be anything, really. Some people pinch each other at a certain place on their body. Others use a taping-code. Others use a catch-phrase.”

Nodding in understanding, Derek muttered, “A sign only we understand.”

“Exactly. I think I like the pinching-thing best. If I get to excited, I might forget any code we agree on and I don’t think talking is always appropriate in that situation anyways.”

When Derek raised a mocking eyebrow, Stiles only reciprocated with a bright grin. They both knew that for Stiles, talking was never inappropriate. More importantly, Stiles liked the idea of pinching and Derek didn’t voice any rejection to the idea, so they finally agreed on pinching each other on the elbow to ask for permission. Stiles noted the tiny success with a fist-pump. Derek only rolled his eyes in amusement.

A comfortable silence fell over them after that, both a little lost in their thoughts. Derek got up to get a refill on his coffee and brought Stiles some nuts to crack so he would have something to occupy his overly expressive hands with. Stiles brushed their hands together in a wordless thanks and they continued sitting in the calm quiet until Stiles had finished eating and Derek was done sipping his coffee.

Finally, Stiles lowered his head and shook it a little in disbelief, “We were so darn lucky though, Derek. This could have gone downhill so much faster, so much worse. I read some things online yesterday and this could have gone so, so very badly.”

He noticed Derek twitching a little at the thought, but also noticed that his eyes were still trained on him.

 “What we did until now, until last week … I don’t think I have to repeat that I really enjoyed it. We have done so many different things without talking and that was okay because, for some goddamn lucky reason, we like the same stuff. I never had a reason to complain, seriously complain, because in the end I liked what you did to me. But – it just hit me how fucking dangerous that was, Derek.”

Looking up from the table, they stared into each other’s eyes and Derek nodded in a jerky movement, with an air of severity. “I know.”

Stiles took a deep breath.

“From now on, we have to talk about things first. We need rules and guidelines and … I don’t know, get more informed or something.”

“Guidelines for sex?” The question sounded amused but Derek’s voice wasn’t.

“Yes,” Stiles confirmed and got more comfortable in his seat, scooting a little to the sides and brushing the leftover peelings to the far side of the table with the back of his hand.

“Okay, so, what we do qualifies as _‘rough sex’_ but I think we both already knew that,” Stiles tried to do this the adult way, trying to stay serious and open, but he couldn’t help but blush nevertheless. Inside, he was still a horny 16-year old who laughed at penis-jokes and grinned at the mere mention of sex.

This was going to be so awkward, _jesus_.

Hesitantly, Derek agreed, but it was clear that the same thoughts were going through his head too. Open confrontation they were trained in, awkwardness was a completely different ballpark.

“I think it’s more than that, though,” Derek added, voice soft, as if saying the words would spook Stiles off, “I think it’s BDSM.”

When he looked up again, Stiles was staring at him with an open mouth and big, wondering eyes. Derek’s face contorted in concern and he was about to say something when Stiles blurted out, “You used the internet!”

Confusion evident on his face, Derek shrugged. “Yeah …?”

“Oh my god, I’m so proud right now,” Stiles couldn’t help but burst out. He was full-on grinning now, hands in an excited gesture and Derek rolled his eyes at him. Then he fixed Stiles with a speculating glare.

“You are okay with that?”

“With you using the internet? Hell yeah! Get right on it, dude, there’s tons-“, Stiles grinned when Derek raised one eyebrow, “alright, alright. With the BDSM stuff? Well, yeah, sure.  I mean, I can’t change the fact that it is what it is. And again, Derek – I’m into it. No doubt about it. So now we just have to … kind of, mark our limits.”

Derek’s face lost the amused upturn of his lip almost instantly and it was obvious that he was trying really hard not to get angry again by the way his hands tightened around his coffee-cup and he started staring holes into his nice table.

Stiles knew Derek to an almost scary extend by then and it was thanks to years of experience and learning all the disturbing, horrifying fact about his life that he knew exactly what was going on in the older man’s head just then.  It would take time for Derek to stop struggling with himself over the sex they’d had so far and the fact that they both had simply not known how to really handle their kind of relationship healthily.

It had only been the incident last week that made both of them realize that they were playing with fire without any kind of extinguisher at hand.

Both of them considered what they liked kinky and unusual and, yes, dark in some occasions. Just going for it had seemed the right approach at the time, Stiles confident that Derek knew what he liked and when he had to stop. Confusingly enough, Stiles had only realized in the week they had spend apart that he had made a victim out of Derek that way. By not talking about their limits and leaving it to Derek to reconcile the way he treated Stiles during sex and his guilt thereof with the deeper feelings he very clearly had for him and his urge not to hurt him, he has basically left Derek to fend for himself. In retrospect, Stiles had been incredibly naïve and ignorant.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up from his seat.

 “Where are you going?” Derek asked when Stiles started moving out of the kitchen.

“Come on, let’s lay down. No sex, just … this is awkward, okay?” Stiles turned around inside the door, blush high on his cheeks, hands fumbling uselessly. “We both don’t handle awkwardness well. And it’s not going to get any easier, so I thought we could just … I don’t know, lay down, snuggle a little and make this easier? Would that be okay?”

He knew he sounded pathetic and needy and like a child but he really didn’t want to do this in the kitchen, where there could be people coming in any minute. He wanted, he **needed** this conversation to be private and intimate and uninterruptable. But really, what he wanted the most was to touch Derek, to feel his warmth next to him and to know that despite this fucked-up situation, they were going to be alright.

Relieved when the tension left Derek’s shoulders and he smiled up at him understandingly, they both started making their ways up the stairs. Reaching Derek’s bedroom, they took off their clothes, closed the shades and crawled into bed, finding their bodies slotting together effortlessly. Both sighed in comfort when they brushed together, wrapping around each other in ease.

For a few moments they were silent, pressing into each other and feeling each other’s warmth until Stiles cleared his throat.

“So … what do you like?”

The question seemed to have stunned Derek because he didn’t get an answer.

After a few more moments of waiting, Stiles’ patience ran out and, running his hands through Derek’s hair, whose head was resting on his chest, he explained, “On all the sites I read it said we have to define clearly what we like and what we can’t do. And I just … we have to start somewhere, right?”

Derek hummed against his chest, cuddly and relaxed.

“Great. Okay.”

Every fiber in Stiles body was screaming “Awkward!” at him but a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence later, he decided he’d had enough and pushed through it.

“I like when you use your nails.”

The confession rushed out of him, sharp and suprising and Derek tiled his head up to look at him.

“My nails?”

“Yes, your werewolf nails. It feels good when you scratch me. When you draw blood.”

He expected a shocked reaction and already cursed himself for leading with one of his more scandalous kinks, but Derek only looked at him with intense, curious eyes.

“How much? How much blood is okay?”

“Uhm,” Stiles squirmed a little under Derek while he thought about it. “Not much. I don’t like blood-play, not in that way.”

By the silence that followed, it was clear Derek had no idea what he was talking about.

Stiles fumbled a bit with his words before he elaborated, slowly, “I don’t want you to, like, use blood as lube or something like that.” Derek’s eyes widened but he still didn’t speak. “Okay, that’s one of the more extreme cases, I’m not even sure that really works,” he mumbled to himself absently, “but I just mean … a little blood is fine. As long as you draw it somewhere on my skin where it won’t be seen, that’s okay. But just, don’t … in my private area.”

His voice had gotten lower while he was speaking, but Derek had undoubtedly heard him. He was still staring at Stiles face.

“Okay,” he finally answered, lifting one hand to stroke it along Stiles’ jaw softly, “a little blood is okay. All the other stuff … I wouldn’t want to do that to you anyways.”

Stiles grinned.

“Good. So next it’s your turn.”

“My turn?” Derek asked and Stiles was glad to see no guilt or lingering fury in his eyes. Only amusement and curiosity and so much fondness that it made Stiles’ heart melt in affection. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

“Yeah, we can, like, switch. You tell me what you’d like to do and I tell you if I’d be okay with that. I mean, you are the dom, so whatever you decided to do, I have to be completely behind it before we start.”

Derek hummed against his chest again, lips grazing the skin there. “Dom means dominant,” he asked and when Stiles affirmed with his head, he continued, slow and deliberate, as if tasting the words, “I like telling you what to do. I like making you lay still, **be** still and just take whatever I give you. I like it when you obey me. And I like it when I get to punish you.”

His voice was sheepish, no matter how confident his face looked. Stiles snuggled up to him closer.

“I like that too,” he grinned. He was back to rubbing the pads of his fingers along Derek’s skull. “That we can most definitely do.”

And then, after considering it for a split second, “Actually, I really, really like that. I also like it when you tie me up. Oh, and the blindfolds!”

It only took Stiles a second to come up with a whole bunch of other stuff he felt the need to mention. “And I’d love to try out breath-play again, because that one time you did it by accident it was the most  amazing fucking thing ever and I’m still not totally convinced I didn’t die a little that day.” He blushed deeply before he continued, murmuring, “Toys. I really really like the toys.”

Derek snorted silently against him.

“What?” Stiles snapped, offended.

“Maybe we should do this the other way around,” Derek offered with genuine affection coating his voice and not, like Stiles had suspected, derisiveness, “Start with the things we don’t like.”

It was a good suggestion, Stiles had to admit that. But it also brought up the issue of talking about what had happened a week ago and the fact that he had just gotten so nicely worked up, starting to get hard thinking about all the things they could and would do in the future.

“Uhm. Okay.”

Derek, having apparently noticed Stiles hesitance, lifted himself off of Stiles body and pushed himself up so they were face to face. He cradled Stiles face in his hand, dropping small, innocent kisses onto his cheekbones and over his nose, tickling Stiles and making him giggle. Derek grinned as he continued kissing him.

Under Derek’s loving treatment, Stiles calmed down instantly. He paused, collecting his thoughts.

“I don’t like it when you call me names,” he finally whispered into Derek’s lips. “I don’t like it when you insult me. The- … the whole humiliation thing, I’m not very fond of that. I don’t feel good about it, it gets me down and afterwards I can’t get it out of my head. And I really don’t like it when you …”

Derek was rubbing comforting circles into his neck and jaw with his thumbs, and the comfort of having him so close made the lump in Stiles’ throat disappear and his heart slow back down where it had been drumming anxiously against his ribcage. He breathed in deeply a couple of time, relaxing against Derek, who was looking so calm and so beautiful and so … sad. Although it was too dark to see his entire face, Stiles could make out deep worry-lines edged into his face. Stiles suddenly felt like there was nothing more important than making that sadness go away. But he had to do this first, say it, say it …

“I hate it when you say that I look like I would let anybody fuck me. I hate it when you make it sound like this means nothing, that there are others for me.”

He swallowed hard, the memories of Derek’s voice in his head, _“Such a good little slut, I bet you'd spread your legs for anyone, I bet you would beg for it from anyone”_ , and he shuddered.

Derek made a cut-off sound in the back of his throat that sounded almost like a whine and pushed closer, kissing Stiles’ face again and murmuring “Sorry” desperately against his skin. Stiles breathed in deeply again, feeling the warmth of Derek’s small touches and listening to the comforting words that were almost as much for Derek as they were for him.

Stiles sighed and let the memories clear out of his head, let the panic of the moment seep out of him. He remembered it all in frightening detail, the moment he had realized he needed Derek to stop right then and the cold drop of his stomach when all of his pleas for Derek to stop had gone unanswered because Derek didn’t know he **meant** it this time.

“I was really scared, you know,” he whispered into Derek’s skin, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth seep into his skin.  “For just one tiny moment, I was really scared. I don’t want to feel that way ever again, Derek, I never want to be afraid of you again.”

Derek hugged him tighter in response, hands slightly trembling where they held Stiles.  

“Okay,” he breathed, “okay.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Stiles tugged closely against Derek’s chest, arms around his waist, feet tangled. Derek’s skin was hot and smooth against his own, his hair tickling his jaw, but Stiles didn’t mind at all. He couldn’t put into words how grateful he was for having this, for being allowed to be near Derek, for being capable to talk these things through. He couldn’t help but think back to a few short years ago, when he and Derek in one room together had meant a guaranteed exchange of sharp and hurtful words. Sometimes he couldn’t help but marvel at how things had changed.

Stiles sniffled a little and shuffled against Derek, moving them into an even more comfortable position where Derek’s hipbone wasn’t pressed into his own in a painful angle.

“It’s never going to happen again. I promise,” Derek whispered.

He moved his hands and gripped at Stiles’ shoulders, look open and raw and Stiles could feel them slip back into place, the part that was messed up in their relationship finally untangling itself. His breath evened out and he felt himself smile at Derek. He didn’t need words, not really. He saw the way Derek looked him, the way he relaxed even when Stiles didn’t say out loud that they were okay, that all this would maybe never be completely forgotten but shoved back so far into a corner of past memories that it simply wouldn’t matter anymore. But then again … well, Stiles had never been one to keep quiet when he could talk instead .

“I know.”

It was a promise they both knew they would do anything to keep.

Stiles leaned in, kissing Derek sweetly, lips barely grazing and then he pulled back, wearing a stern look.

“But we still aren’t done here.”

Derek nodded and they snuggled together again, arms around each other, faces buried in each other’s necks, blankets over them like they were in their own little world.

Stiles didn’t even realize how the tickle of Derek’s hair had increased until out of the blue, he sneezed, shockingly loud in their closed-off space.

There was a second of silence before both of them burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Stiles cracked up, giggling in between hiccups, while Derek trembled against his shoulder in restrained laughter.

“Way to get ease up the tension,” Derek said dryly, when he could finally talk again, still chuckling. Stiles grinned at him, lodging his leg over Derek’s, making him kiss his hairline softly.

 “I guess it’s my turn now?” Derek asked calmly, with a hint of nervousness. Stiles nodded. The older man thought for a long moment before he spoke and what he said sounded careful and deliberate.

“I will do whatever you want, Stiles, I mean it. Everything I’ve done to you so far, I’ve liked it. But if you aren’t on board, I will never even think about it again.”  He shuffled a little, obviously considering what to say next. Stiles waited. In situations like this, being patient was never a struggle for him.

“I don’t like it when you are silent,” Derek finally explained. “I don’t mean talking. I mean, when you don’t move, don’t make any kind of noise.” He cleared his throat and Stiles nudged his arms a little so he could get his hands on his shoulders and neck, massaging the muscles there softly, in between pressing comforting kisses to the top of his head.

Derek seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, as if trying to get it all of his chest in one go so he wouldn’t have to bring it all up again later. Stiles didn’t feel like mentioning that they would probably talk about this again at some point, when it became relevant. For now, Stiles just listened. He needed to know what exactly it was that Derek wanted to do to him when they had sex. And what he didn’t want. Obviously, he held a pretty big interest in that himself.

“So no lying around? No making you do all the work?” he joked, trying to dissipate Derek’s gloomy mood, scratching his nails lightly over his scalp.

Derek made a grunting noise, obviously enjoying Stiles’ ministrations.

“No, you can do that. Just- I need to know you are okay, I can’t handle it when you lie there and I can hear your heart but it seems like … like …” Derek looked at him, eyes big and intense, willing Stiles to understand.

And Stiles did immediately.

“I’m dead?” he whispered, shocked and sad. Derek nodded, averting his eyes.

The younger man sucked in a breath. He had never thought about that before, how having someone not react to his treatment in bed could make Derek fearful. Internally, he cursed himself for never having made the connection before.

“Okay,” he whispered again. “You know me, I’m never still for a long time anyway.”

He meant for it to be comforting and felt insanely relieved when Derek snorted and whispered a “So true” back at him.

Not wanting the silence to settle in between them again, Stiles continued.

“I like the things you did with your fingers a few weeks ago, you know …” He made a vague gesture.

“When I opened you without lube?” Derek asked right back. “But … didn’t you cry?”

“Hey, when has a little crying ever meant I didn’t enjoy something?” Stiles flicked Derek’s shoulder sharply and looked at him with indignation. “I told you, if I hadn’t liked it, I would’ve stopped you.”

“So … how are you going to stop me? Now, I mean?”

Feeling a little irritated by Derek’s non-reaction to his flicking, Stiles mumbled, “It’s called a safeword. Like, something I say so you know you have to stop immediately.”

“I’m guessing ‘stop’ is not a very good one,” Derek mused, a bit of angry guilt showing through. Stiles knew it was a rhetorical question and kissed him instead of replying.

Stiles’ body was starting to get stiff as the cold of the night started to trickle through the morose exterior wall of Derek’s house, so he threw his arms behind his head on the mattress, pushing to make Derek roll onto his back, and then proceeded to stretch out his protesting muscles. Grabbing the comforter and pulling it over the blankets, he climbed over Derek and onto his other side so he was blocked by his massive, warm body from the cold air starting to ooze in through the invisible cracks in the construction. Stiles didn’t want to start a discussion about the safety hazard this house obviously was, he just wanted to lay down comfortably with his boyfriend, having a serious discussion in the dark.

“Think of any good ones?” he asked, finally in place snuggled up to Derek’s side, “safewords, I mean.”

Derek dragged him unto his chest until he was half on him, half on the mattress and Stiles couldn’t have been more comfortable. He pulled the blankets over them and sighed in comfort. Now trying to not fall asleep.

“How about ‘Grimm’”, Derek suggested.

Surprised, but nevertheless curious, Stiles wondered, “As in, the Brothers Grimm?”

“Hmm,” Derek confirmed, “I used to love their stories as a kid. And, you know, all their original transcripts from fairytales were a lot more violent than the versions we know today. Besides, it’s definitely not a word that would come up for any other reason.”

Derek sounded oddly enthusiastic about it and Stiles didn’t have any other good ideas anyways, so he just agreed by murmuring a low “Right, okay. ‘Grimm’ it is,” into Derek’s chest.  He felt compelled to ask more questions about Derek’s childhood but there was a time and a place and this was most definitely not it.

“Good, so we have that … that’s good, important, glad we got that off the table.” It was starting to become increasingly hard for Stiles to focus his thoughts and he was aware that Derek had probably noticed it too. The exhaustion of the week was settling into his bones and his head felt heavy, so he let it rest against Derek, rubbing his cheeks in a way he knew Derek liked, scents mingling. Stiles played a little with the dark hair on the older man’s chest, whirling it around his fingers and tugging a little.

Derek shifted a tiny bit and coughed in a way that made Stiles look up at him questioningly. “But what … what if you can’t talk?” he asked nervously. The question came as a surprise because although Stiles didn’t mind being gagged, Derek had never shown any particular interest in it before. Then again, for future reference the question was a good one.

“Well,” Stiles pushed himself up a little so he could look at his boyfriend more comfortably, ignoring his heavy limps. “I guess we’ll need a way for me to tell you to stop then too.”

With Derek’s hands finding their way onto his temples, rubbing peacefully in slow circles, he closed his eyes momentarily and missed how Derek’s face contorted a little.

“Why not just kick me in the balls?”

Stiles snorted out a short laughter at the thought, but he knew even without looking that a part of Derek was actually serious, still thinking he deserved punishment.

“Dude, I don’t wanna hurt you! That’s not … come on, if I can’t talk, I’ll just, I don’t know, tap your thigh three times, okay? But seriously, the idea behind a sign and a safeword is that I can tell you to stop if I really need you to without hurting you. “

A little outraged at Derek’s apparent need for self-loathing, he looked at him sternly.

“Just … look, I read a lot about something called the ‘traffic-light system’, maybe we could use that too. The idea behind it is to assign a certain meaning to the three colors and that way we won’t have to stop completely, just – change parts of it. For example, ‘yellow’ could mean ‘go slower’ and so on.”

He didn’t really want to admit it, but the embarrassment was still there and the awkwardness of the conversation hadn’t really gone away like Stiles had hoped. Blushing, he hid his face in Derek’s chest again, breaking eye-contact.

“I think that would be a good idea,” he heard Derek’s voice above him and he could tell that the older man was smiling at his embarrassment even without looking. Stiles buried his elbow in Derek’s sternum in retaliation but his boyfriend barely reacted at all.

“Something else you want to talk about?” Derek sounded amused.

Stiles was silent for a while, Derek back to massaging him into a state of complete relaxation and he had to work hard not to fall asleep instantly. He thought over the list he had made a few days back, about the things they really desperately needed to talk about, the most important things that absolutely couldn’t wait. Then he started talking again, slowly.

“I just thought of something, _remembered_ something, and since we are already talking about it … I don’t like rope.” It was such a random statement that, had they been talking about anything else, Derek would have been completely confused.

“It’s just that while sometimes it does feel good, I really hate the rope-burns. And I know where my dad keeps his spare handcuffs, so I’d really prefer using those.”

Derek smiled at the ceiling as he traced Stiles’ muscles on his back, making him shift a little when he felt ticklish.

“That makes sense.”

“ There’s only so much rope you can buy without seeming highly suspicious anyway,” Stiles pushed on, “Wouldn’t want to get you arrested again. By my dad. Wouldn’t that just be the irony.”

He was getting really close to sleep now and he knew Derek could feel it. The day had been long and full of emotional ups and downs and Stiles didn’t even want to think about the week he’d had before that, when all he had done was feel miserable about himself, feel sad for Derek, feel afraid for their relationship, and hole himself up in his rooms, looking up as much about BDSM as he could.

It was time for it to stop. All he wanted was to fall asleep with his boyfriend, safe in the knowledge that they would be alright. His arms were tightly wrapped around his body, making Stiles melt into a buddle of sleepy bliss and he really, really wanted to sleep now.

“Derek,” only after he turned his head, Stiles carried on, “I don’t really know what it is I like and what I don’t like yet. Not all of it, anyways. I’m young and you are the first person I’ve ever done this with, any of it. The sex we’ve had so far was really awesome and I don’t want it to stop. I mean, I liked the binding and the blindfolds and the spanking – I **really** loved the spanking! I loved it when you made me wear that plug in public. I loved it when you sucked me off without letting me come.”

It didn’t matter that he was blushing furiously again, Stiles was too sleepy to feel concerned about how he was going to die in mortification tomorrow about having said all that out loud. Looking at Derek, he could see the way the man was watching him with big, stunned eyes, the way there was a trace of a flush if only he looked close enough. Looking right back at him, Stiles continued, still slow and malleable and unpreocupied.

“ And I like it when you order me around and when you make me do stuff and when you are rough and when you hurt me and when you take me without a warning. I like all that.”

He paused a little, making sure he got Derek’s full attention. He didn’t need to worry, though, Derek was looking at him like he was presenting him with his last will or the Hope diamond. His attention was all on Stiles, transfixed.

Stiles cleared his throat and pushed the need to kiss Derek silly aside.

“I’m probably going to mess up at some point, but I need you to bear with me because … well, because everyone messes up and I’ll always forgive you if you do. We can try it all out and if I don’t like it, hell, we have a safeword now! I’m pretty sure that I’m going to hate whips though, just so you know. And if I’m completely honest, I’m terrified of all those torture-looking instruments they use in porn.”

Derek chocked on a small laugh, for the first time that day sounding happy and pleasantly surprised and affectionate all at once. “Whatever you want, Stiles.”  

And he didn’t even say it mockingly. There was a small hint laughter and so much obvious care in his voice that Stiles felt himself slip just that little bit further into a state he knew he wouldn’t get out of anytime soon. Falling in love with Derek was, against all assumptions, a lot easier than anything he’d ever done.

One last thing popped into Stiles’ head, when, after another stretch of silence, he was starting to get drowsy and was drifting off rapidly, almost too comfortable in his current position.

Messing up his words in a sleepy haze, he murmured, “I read somewhere that aftercare is really important too. You can’t just leave me lying around after we’re done – not that you ever would. I mean, you have never done that, but just … afterwards, you should take care of me somehow. I’m not really sure what exactly that means, but I think a lot of snuggling was implied. So there. Snuggling. Lots of it. Is what I want.”

While he was clumsily talking, Derek had rolled them over, plastering himself over Stiles’ side instead, warming him through and through and making his eyelids droop. He was so comfortable that staying in that position forever seemed like a genuinely good idea.

With a voice, almost too quiet to hear, he continued, “I read about this thing called subdrop and it sounded really awful, so just …”

He never finished his sentence, just felt Derek’s soft lips on his face, his warm breath fanning over his cheekbones and a soft “Sleep” and slid away into unconsciousness, feeling as safe as he ever had, right there in Derek’s arms, the last memory not the one of one terrible experience but  one of Derek’s faint smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> I am always open for criticism and thoughts, so PM me!  
> I'm 'sterekallaround' or 'Persayal' on tumblr.


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